


What Happens on Vega...

by Artemis1000



Series: Vega [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Community: tfa_kink, Crack, Drunken Shenanigans, Dubious Consent due to Intoxication, Finn/constant state of confusion is my new OTP, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Morning After, Power Imbalance, Sexual Content, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7502802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FN-2187 has seen a lot of weird shit as a First Order Stormtrooper, but waking up married to Kylo Ren is forever going to remain uncontested #1 on that list.</p><p>Someone please get the poor guy a paper bag to breathe into. Or a redo button. A redo button will do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Have I Ever...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of spin the bottle has Finn revealing a surprising secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes another one of my kink meme deanons. I've decided to start polishing the early chapters while I keep working on it. I wasn't going to post to AO3 till the story is done, but there's so little Finnlo fic, I got impatient.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this silly little fic!
> 
> Written to the prompt: _Finn (in his stormtrooper days) and Kylo wake up married somehow.First Order version of Spring Break on some Vegas-like planet? Alien love pollen? Hux playing a prank? I don't know,I just want to read about Finn waking up and thinking he's going to die,and Kylo being like "Yo,this trooper is totally bangin' "_  
>  +If they are still married when the canon movie events happen

“Never have I ever…” Rey let her gaze wander over her circle of smiling, slightly tipsy friends. Her own smile grew, becoming more predatory as she toyed with the many wonderful, terrible ideas she had, and let her friend squirm. “…done it in an X-Wing,” she finished gleefully.

“Now that’s a cheap shot, Rey!” Poe yelped and reached for the bottle at the same time as Jessika and Snap did. “Me first,” he said, swatting his friends’ hands away. He brought it to his lips for a long gulp before he passed the bottle of Corellia’s finest to Testor.

Rey and Finn looked from one to the other, questions clear in their eyes.

“What?” Jessika said, smirking as she made a grand show of tilting her head back and drinking with an obscene little moan. She broke out into giggles a moment later. “Oh come on, no, we haven’t done it together.” She rolled her eyes. “All pilots do it in their ship at least once. It’s a rite of passage.”

Finn chuckled. “Sounds uncomfortable to me.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Poe quipped. He leaned back, hands folded behind his neck. “My turn. Never have I ever,” he barely took a second to deliberate, “gotten married.” At his friends’ groans, he laughed. “Like I’m going to ask the good questions now; I’m leaving these for when you’re too drunk to…”

He trailed off, stunned into disbelieving silence just like everybody else, when Finn reached for the bottle.

They remained silent while he drank, and even after he’d put it down in the middle of their circle.

“You’re married?” Rey asked, a moment later followed by Poe’s, “you’ve been holding out on us, buddy!”

Finn’s dark face flushed, and he looked like he was sorely regretting his honesty. Or plotting his escape. Or both.

Poe grabbed him by the back of his shirt, just in case. “Oh no, you aren’t going anywhere till you’ve told us about Mrs Finn.” A moment later realizing, “no wait, you can’t have gotten married since we met, you haven’t been on a mission without Rey or me. And I know for a fact you didn’t marry Rey.” He looked to Rey, but she looked just as puzzled, and curious, as him. “Mrs FN then.”

Which was all kinds of terrible, now that Poe thought about it, and he sorely wished he had never asked his stupid question. Force, he’s getting sick just thinking about it. With Stormtrooper conditioning being what it was, none of them had considered that Finn might have had a family back with the First Order. _Poe_ had never wondered how much Finn had sacrificed when he rescued him.

Forcing joviality he didn’t feel into his voice, he teased, “so, is she hot? I bet she’s hot. One of these warrior babes like the Captain, thighs of steel…”

Busy as he was trying to make light of the subject, Poe barely noticed Finn’s face going from flushed to bloodless. It wasn’t a good look on him. “I really don’t think you should…” He looked around nervously as if the elusive Mrs could overhear all the way from the other end of the galaxy, and stammered, “that’s not… I really don’t think he’d like us talking about his thighs…”

“He?” Rey echoed, leaning forward eagerly.

Poe gaped at him. “Is that why you kept it a secret?” he asked incredulously. “Did you think we’d have a problem with you liking men?” It seemed utterly ridiculous, yet it was the only even remotely sensible explanation for Finn keeping such an important secret from his best friends.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that!” Finn shook his head, his eyes wide in alarm. “It’s just, he…” He trailed off sheepishly and looked down at the bottle. “He’s _he_. And it’s not like we meant to. It was an accident involving First Order intrigues and too much alcohol. We aren’t even properly married anymore, I mean, not _married_ married. We just never had the chance to get it annulled because he caused a diplomatic incident when he got into a fight with Hux and vandalized the First Minister’s guest house and then we had to leave in a hurry and…”

Finn fell silent under their intense scrutiny.

“He sounds like a real prince charming,” Rey said grimly, exchanging a solemn look with Poe.

He opened his mouth, but Snap got there first, oblivious to the tension of the trio, and asked cheerfully, “come on, tell us his name. It can’t be that bad!”

“It can.” Finn looked down at the bottle as if it had become the most interesting thing in the world. He squirmed, and looked more likely to run than ever before. His eyes flickered from one to the other. He sighed in defeat and finally whispered, “it’s Kylo Ren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the prologue! Next chapter we jump back in time, to that fateful morning FN-2187 woke up married...


	2. Good Morning Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FN-2187 wakes up with a hangover and a bedmate.
> 
> One of these is bad news, the jury's still out on the other one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for your reviews and kudos! I never expected this story to be so popular.
> 
> Today we go back to what happened on Vega. Needless to say, poor Finn is in for a surprise (and Kylo is somewhat of a jerk, but what else is new.)

FN-2187 awoke to annoying rays of sunlight shining right into his eyes. He squeezed them tightly shut, rolled onto his other side and hid his face in the pillow with a whine. As he hugged the pillow, he became aware that it was just as pleasantly soft as his head was unpleasantly… pounding?

He groaned. It felt like tiny little men were hammering against the inside of his skull. ‘87 wasn’t really experienced with being drunk, alcohol was banned in the training centers and punishments harsh, but he knew just enough about hangovers to recognize one when he had it.

Reluctant to face the bright daylight which might make his hangover worse, ‘87 tried to piece together how he had ended up passed out on some ridiculously soft and comfortable bed, and stark naked, too.

He was going to be in so much trouble. This was it. If Captain Phasma heard of this it would be reconditioning for him, no doubt about it.

He knew he was on Vega, having been chosen with another few outstanding cadets to join the troops accompanying General Hux and Kylo Ren on a diplomatic visit. Rumor said they were here for important, secret negotiations, but ‘87 knew his job. It was to stand in front of the door, hold his blaster, and ask no questions.

‘87 shifted a bit. His toes brushed against smooth skin… another foot? Definitely not his.

He opened his eyes quickly, to the sight of someone else’s back. His eyes went very wide. Oh kriff. Kriff kriff kriff kriffing _kriff_ …

There was a naked man in his bed. ‘87 wanted to leap out of the bed and scream his head off, but even more than that he didn’t want to face his bedmate.

The man made a snuffing sound, like choked laughter, and FN-2187’s heart skipped a beat, but somehow he managed to stifle all sounds of panic.

He tried to go about it like you would with a training simulation. Gather information, analyze it, draw your conclusions and most of all, _no manly screaming_.

His bedmate was male. He had wide shoulders and muscular arms, which told ‘87 absolutely nothing; all Stormtroopers had chiseled bodies though this one was bound to be a killer opponent in hand-to-hand training. He was white, the pallid color white people got when they spent all their time on spaceships… or in Stormtrooper uniforms. So much for these clues.

Far more interesting was the mop of tousled black hair, which definitely wasn’t regulation-length. Maybe a pilot or officer? They got away with more than troopers, though ’87 hadn’t ever seen one of these with long hair, either.

All he knew was that he had to be First Order, for ‘87’s vague memories of last night included a party of the First Order delegation, and somehow the troopers had been invited to drink? He tentatively settled for _some kind of Moff son officer with special privileges_.

87’s forehead crinkled as he tried to make sense of why, or who he had shared a drink with; all he remembered were blurry flashes of a pale hand offering a bottle to him … a deep masculine voice telling him to drink … a calloused hand cradling his, the sensation of something cold being slipped around his finger … lips on his lips, then these lips around his hard cock and a hot wet tongue…

It took all of his self-control not to squirm as his body enthusiastically relived what his mind barely recalled.

One way or the other, FN-2187 was utterly screwed. And not just literally.

His belly felt tight with anxiety. He knew exactly who would be getting disciplined over this, and it wouldn’t be the officer who already got away with long hair.

His best and only chance was to sneak out unseen, and hope the officer recalled no more than he did.

And so began _Operation: Stealthy Retreat_.

‘87 turned at a snail’s pace, onto his back, onto his other side. A hand slid out to the edge of the bed, then a leg, toes brushing the cool floor…

“You’re not planning to leave without saying good morning, were you?”

‘87 twisted around, sheer horror bright on his face.

So much for stealth. How had he ever passed stealth training at the top of his class? The training results were a lie!

One thing was for sure, the man in ‘87’s bed was gorgeous. He had a chiseled chest and as he turned onto his back the sheets had slipped down far enough to reveal abs to die for – ‘87 could see why his reckless, drunken self would have thought him worth the punishment. Only, when ‘87 met the man’s dark eyes there was something very disquieting about them, which made him wish to look away.

‘87 felt a shiver run down his spine. His bedmate wasn’t just studying him, he was looking at ‘87 like you would inspect a lab rat in chemical weapons class, or like he was looking right through his skull to read his innermost thoughts. It was creepy.

Did drunk him have a secret creep kink?!

The man let his gaze drop to '87’s lips, then to his chest. “Turn around. No, completely. Let me look at you.”

While his voice was soft, gentle almost, he spoke with the authority and entitlement of someone used to issuing orders. Definitely an officer. At a loss as he was, ‘87 fell back into the familiar habit of following orders.

He settled properly on the bed, facing the man, though he tried to arrange his legs so as to keep his groin hidden. Heat rushed through ‘87, and he told himself it was all humiliation, not the thrill of the man’s obvious interest. He recalled just enough to know that the soreness he felt with every movement had been well worth it. He remembered lying face down on this bed, a body heavier and taller than his own driving him into the mattress with every powerful thrust until strong hands gripped him and hauled him to his knees. ‘87 was certain he’d called out a name last night, but every time he tried to remember it, it slipped through his metaphorical fingers.

“At least I chose well.”

‘87 felt like running all over again, but it was far too late for that now. “So you remember what happened?” he asked tentatively.

The man frowned. He looked concerned for a moment, before he settled on grim. “You don’t?”

He averted his eyes, wondering if the truth would anger his nameless lover. Some gut instinct told ‘87 the man would know a lie, and it would only make everything worse. “Not very much.” He gulped audibly. “I don’t remember your name.”

There was a long silence, in which ‘87 fervently wished he had the courage to look at the man. Instead he kept looking at the telltale stains on the bedsheets. They’d been busy last night.

“Of course you don’t. I concluded as much.” Another silence, another sigh. Irritable now. “But you came to my bed willingly, though you were intoxicated.” After a moment’s pause, he amended, “so was I. I wouldn’t have married you if I’d been sober.”

For the second time this morning, FN-2187 felt the world tilt under his feet. “You did what?!”

To be continued…


	3. Is This Wedded Bliss?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FN-2187 talks to his new husband, gets a taste of wedded bliss and another shocking surprise. This Is Not His Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your reviews and kudos!

The infuriating man just _looked_ at ‘87, as if he hadn’t just said something so outrageous he might as well have declared himself a Hutt Lord.

“I married you,” he said, voice tight with the patronizing patience ‘87’s drill sergeants reserved for particularly young or stupid cadets. That one where you don’t even bother to get mad anymore.

‘87 decided that the officer – _his_ officer – was somewhat of a jerk.

“Captain Phasma’s going to have me scrub toilets till I die,” he groaned, and buried his head in his hands.

Something silver glinting on his finger caught his attention. On closer inspection, ‘87 discovered it to be an unadorned, plain ring. It looked off, like it was just a piece of scrap metal twisted into ring shape. ‘87 only knew weddings from holobooks, but he had read enough books to understand this had to be his wedding ring.

“I reckon that isn’t regulation,” ‘87 said mournfully. He felt far too numb with shock to muster up the outrage he knew he should be feeling. “Getting married isn’t regulation either.” His face fell another notch. “I’m going to be scrubbing toilets forever and ever!”

“It’s not like I wanted to!” the other man snapped, and finally bothered to sit up properly. The sheet slipped lower, and ‘87 made the mistake of looking, which had him catching sight of a very interesting trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath white cloth pooled in his lap. ‘87 quickly looked up to meet the man’s disturbingly intense eyes. They were a slightly less nerve-wrecking sight.

He regretted it as soon as he met his gaze, for the officer was angry. Really angry, face twisted into some ugly cross between a snarl and a sneer, and he looked like he wanted to hurt someone. Not very reassuring when you were the only other person in the room.

“It’s Hux’s fault,” he growled, “he thought humiliation would humble me.” He snorted. “Get me drunk, make me wed and bed a Stormtrooper, make me the Order’s laughingstock.”

‘87 gulped against the hurt suddenly welling up in him. He didn’t even know this man and didn’t know if he would want to know him – not if he kept being nasty – but people were rarely ever so blunt in their rejection of him. His squad mostly just shunned him silently.

“I’m a cadet,” ‘87 offered tentatively. He could only hope the man wouldn’t notice how wounded he sounded, or at least not pretend to care. Being obligated to accept a fake apology would be worse than getting none at all.

The man stared at him for long moments. He snorted. “That doesn’t make it better.” He still sounded angry, but more frustrated-angry in general than angry at ‘87 specifically. Good enough.

‘87 looked at him again. The man… his _husband_ was a couple of years older, late twenties to ‘87’s early twenties. He was uncouth, but not outright cruel. He was also very handsome, and important enough for General Hux to torment him personally. FN-2187 didn’t know a lot about marriage, but he figured he might be what the holobooks would call a good catch.

“You’re taking this very calmly,” ‘87 pointed out.

The man’s expression shifted till it seemed awkwardly stuck between a smile and a frown. “I don’t often get called out for being too calm. You’re an odd one, aren’t you?”

‘87 shrugged sheepishly. “I’m just thinking, if it were me, I would be pretty mad. But I’m glad you’re not mad. With me, that is.” Being mad with Hux was okay, because if ‘87 let himself think about it, he would be mad, too. He was a dutiful cadet, but being toyed with in some personal feud of the higher-ups went well beyond doing his soldierly duty.

He picked up an edge of the blanket, and worried at a loose thread. “I’m going to be in trouble. Stormtroopers aren’t allowed to get married. And we aren’t supposed to sleep with officers either.” Or with anyone, really. People being people it happened, of course. The fraternization, that was, not the getting married. He grimaced. “I’m going to be in trouble for drinking, too. How did that happen anyway?”

The man heaved an irritable sigh. “Why don’t you let me take care of all the trouble you believe you’re in and make the best of the time we have.” He cradled ‘87’s hands in his. They were calloused, just like in his memories, but held his gently. The tug he gave him was just as gentle, cajoling rather than demanding.

‘87 shook his head slightly, even as he wondered what the officer’s hands would feel like exploring his body. ‘87 didn’t have a lot of experience, being an outcast, but he didn’t feel shy in a bad way, just excited, nervous. “I don’t even know your name…”

His wry smile twisted with bitterness as he said, “it’ll come back to you. I want you to stay with me until it does.”

What an odd request.

‘87 never got to question it before warm lips found his own. The man’s kiss was harsh, demanding. ‘87 remembered it like this from last night. _Uncouth, but not cruel_.

He had barely had time to adjust to the tongue fucking his mouth before large rough hands slipped under ‘87’s ass and hauled him forward onto the man’s lap. ‘87’s arms wrapped around his neck of their own accord. It seemed his body remembered. The sheet was gone, ‘87 felt a hard cock slide along his scrotum and for a panicky moment he thought the man would just push him down on his cock without any preparation at all.

“No,” he breathed, “don’t tense up.” The kiss grew sweeter, almost as if he cared. “I won’t hurt you.”

‘87 stifled a moan against the man’s lips. Maybe there was a thin line between being terrified and aroused.

A slick finger teased his hole without any warning at all, making 87 squeak and tense up all over again. He instinctively tried to shy away from the probing finger, which had him pressing himself flush against his officer’s broad chest. When exactly had he fetched the lube anyway?

There was a growl, he could have sworn it sounded pleased, and teeth nipped harder at his lips. Once ’87 relaxed against him, the finger pushed past his ring of muscles and it was almost too fast too much but there was nowhere to go but push back and impale himself further. ‘87’s head fell back as he gave himself wholly to the sensation. His hips rotated as he sought that spot deep within him that had driven him to screams of pleasure last night.

His officer made for a beautiful sight, mad and mad with lust, face twisted into something so intense it could have been mistaken for fury…

…and he was back last night, that same handsome face twisted in fury, only fury; there were black-gloved hands wrapping around General Hux’s throat and squeezing, the General turning purple…

‘87 tore himself away from the man’s embrace before he had so much as registered what was happening. He slipped to his knees on the floor, hand going for the blaster he had spied earlier.

“You tried to kill the General!” he yelled as he lifted the blaster. “Last night, you…!”

There was the same fury as last night on the man’s face. Now, he did want to hurt him.

FN-2187 rose to his feet at the same time as a metal cylinder flew into the man’s hand.

Red light shot out of the silver hilt, shaping itself into a plasma blade.

‘87 tumbled backwards till his back hit the wall, he was fumbling with his suddenly far too slippery blaster.

“Oh kriff, you’re a Jedi!”

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we go, Finn is starting to piece the puzzle together but he's got his pieces all jumbled up!
> 
> The biggest challenge for me in this chapter was to show that Finn won't put up with Kylo's less-than-stellar attitude, but also show that their physical attraction is very much mutual. I hope I managed this.


	4. A Knight Of Your Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn finally learns the identity of his bedmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudos, you're the best readers anyone could ask for!
> 
> In this chapter we're coming to the end of Finn's terrible morning after. Poor Finn. He suffers far too much at my hands.

_“Oh kriff, you’re a Jedi!”_

FN-2187’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as he looked at the impossibility of a plasma sword being brandished at him.

As the star pupil of his squad, ‘87 knew everything about the Jedi.

They were dangerous warmongers who had betrayed the Republic, and then the Empire. They would have tried to destroy the First Order, too, if it weren’t for the Knights of Ren.

Before his first assignment, FN-2187 had been full of awe for the mystical warriors that were the First Order’s greatest weapon, and hoped to meet one of them one day. Being stationed in sanitation, Finn had never run into Kylo Ren, the Knights’ leader, but he had cleaned up after enough of his tantrums to have changed his mind about meeting him.

Now he found himself really, really wishing Kylo Ren were here and destroying a couple of consoles.

“Where are the Knights of Ren when you need them?” he yelped. “Aren’t they supposed to hunt down rogue Jedi? I’m pretty sure they should, it’s their job why aren’t they here why isn’t Kylo Ren here don’t they have Jedi sensors Slip said they have Jedi sensors oh kriff I’m going to _die_ …”

The Jedi lowered his light sword, a look of supreme confusion on his face. He deactivated it, but that did nothing to make him less intimidating for he slipped off the bed and ‘87 saw for the first time just how freakishly tall and broad-shouldered he was. 87 was by no means a waif, but right now the man in front of him might as well have been a giant. That’s what looming death did to your perception. “I _am_ Kylo Ren!”

‘87’s brain jarred to a halt.

Red saber. Black clothes on the floor. _Red crossguard lightsaber_. Everybody on board knew about the saber, and ‘87 had never heard of there being a second one like his.

And who else could get away with attacking General Hux?

‘87’ legs buckled. The blaster slipped from his hands altogether. “ _I’m going to die_.”

Nobody ‘87 knew had seen Kylo Ren without his mask, but everybody agreed he was old and ugly, and most believed he was disfigured like Emperor Palpatine had been.

FN-2187 knew now that he had tiny little moles on his face, and his ass, and that he liked to take you from behind.

He was _so dead_.

“I’m deader than dead,” he moaned as he sat there on the floor and tried not to hyperventilate.

A pair of feet came to a halt right in front of him.

Had he mentioned yet that he was dead?

Dead man walking, that was him. Or more like not-even-walking since his legs had turned to jelly.

Kylo Ren gave a disgusted scoff. “This is how I knew you didn’t remember my name.”

Somehow, ‘87 managed to stifle his whimper. “This is when you’re going to kill me.”

There was a growl somewhere above him. “I will, if you don’t stop whimpering.”

Somehow, this did nothing to calm ‘87’s racing heart.

“Oh for Force’s…”

Invisible hands wrapped around his throat and hauled him to his feet – _by his kriffing throat!_ – and then another pair of invisible hands pinned him to the wall, only it was more like a solid wall of invisible-something pinning him...

…and he was still dead. So dead. FN-2187 had heard everything about the Force Choke.

Fearfully, ‘87 forced himself to look at his husband – Kylo Ren! Slip would never believe him! The man had one hand raised, reminding ‘87 of a picture of a puppeteer he had seen once. He still looked very annoyed, but he didn’t look like he was about to crush his throat. And ‘87 didn’t have any actual problems breathing, there was just this _solid presence_ holding him in place. Of course, who could tell how Kylo Ren looked before he crushed someone’s throat? He wore a mask!

“I _noticed_ ,” the Knight snapped, but there was an undertone of amusement to his annoyed voice now, and ‘87’s hope that he might live to see another minute soared. “Now if you could stop thinking quite so loudly for a moment…”

“You’re reading my thoughts?!” ‘87 gasped. Okay, now he was utterly, thoroughly horrified. And he was pretty sure mindreading ought to be against regulation, too.

“Only because you are shouting them at me.” The man glowered. “ _Stop thinking_.”

‘87 didn’t think you could actually just stop thinking like that, but he sure tried his hardest to think quietly. However that was supposed to work.

But it did work, for the pressure vanished, and Kylo Ren walked back to the bed. It was only then that ‘87 realized they were both still naked. And Kylo Ren’s backside really made for a very nice sight.

Why were all the hot ones so murderous?

Ren placed his lightsaber on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed. Several seconds passed before he patted the mattress and snapped, “sit!”

‘87 bristled at being sat like that, did Ren take him for a pet or droid? In favor of keeping himself in one piece, he swallowed his annoyance and obeyed. That’s all you could do around asshole officers; talking back never worked out well for the Stormtrooper even if there were no lightsabers involved.

He did make sure to keep an arm’s length of distance between Ren and himself, for all the good that would do him against a Knight of Ren. Then ‘87 just looked down at his knees while he waited for Ren to make the next move. He still had scabs from a previous training session, and now he felt sore in delicate places, too. If he moved slowly in training tomorrow, that would be hard to explain to Captain Phasma.

The Knight didn’t speak. Was he breathing at all?

“Uh…?” ‘87 faked a cough. His gaze shifted to the wedding ring on his finger, and he twirled it around. He figured this could become a nervous habit, if he were allowed to keep it.

Ren still wasn’t looking at him.

“So… Um…” Waiting. Nothing. Did Force users ever go into spontaneous hibernation? “I should get back to the others. Captain Phasma must be wondering where I am.”

That finally earned him a response – a snort. “Trust me, she knows. I’m sure everybody knows that I dragged you into the middle of the bar and ordered the Vega secretary of state to officiate our wedding. Which is your fault, by the way, as you kept citing fraternization rules at me until I reasoned in my drunken state that they’d make an exception for lawfully wedded couples. I believe I had her at lightsaber point until I needed my hands to exchange rings.”

‘87 winced; that sounded like something Kylo Ren would do. “That doesn’t explain how this happened. Or why,” ‘87 interjected cautiously. Since Ren seemed calm enough, he dared turn slightly towards him, and look at him properly. He was frowning, but he looked more thoughtful than angry. Maybe, ‘87 couldn’t help thinking, there’s something to these jokes that Ren just needed to get laid…

Ren’s lips twisted into a sneer. Oh, there was the anger. He balled his hands into fists. They trembled with barely restrained anger. “That’s no mystery when you’ve been slipped something to alter your mood. Drunk, maybe. I felt euphoric. And then I decided to get drunk for real.”

Alright, that was awful, but how had ‘87 gotten drunk, or why? He rubbed his temples as he tried his hardest to remember, but he still had nothing but these utterly unhelpful flashes of memory. He saw himself drinking, then drinking with Ren who looked… He had looked gorgeous half-drunk, with his eyes wild and body language grandiose, and somehow always finding yet another reason to touch ‘87, or pull him closer. ‘87 remembered that he hadn’t minded, not at all. Drunk him had been incredibly attracted to Kylo Ren.

That was all nice and good. Only, the Stormtroopers had been there to guard the dignitaries, not to party with them. Stormtroopers, as a rule, didn’t _party_.

“I ordered you to take off your helmets and drink. And since Hux had conveniently left and dragged Phasma along, nobody dared disobey.” Oh yes, he sounded angry, but that growl was rather nice too when it wasn’t directed at you.

FN-2187 nodded, and gulped. “You took one look at me and…” He trailed off, uncertain, since it sounded cocky or even silly when you tried to put it into words.

“…decided that I wanted you,” Ren finished for him. For all that this had been an obvious ploy to humiliate him before his own troops, foreign dignitaries and ultimately the Supreme Leader, he still struck ‘87 as incredibly unabashed.

“It wasn’t like I was fighting you off,” ‘87 offered tentatively, accompanied with a hopeful little smile, “we’re both to blame.” He felt a little bit squirmy as he recalled how far he had been from fighting him off. He couldn’t even blame the alcohol, considering he would be getting fucked by Ren – _again_ – right now if his memories hadn’t returned at the worst possible moment. But nobody had ever looked at him like Ren did.

“No,” Kylo Ren said, eerily calm again, “we aren’t. I know exactly who is to blame.” His face was tight and angry again, and his gaze flickered to his lightsaber.

“Oh no no no no no!” 87 yelped, leaping up from the bed in his panic. “You can’t go after General Hux!”

“Don’t concern yourself with him.”

Ren’s hand reached for him and the invisible bands returned, yanking him back onto the bed. They really had to talk about Ren’s manhandling habit. “Right now you should be concerned with yourself,” he said. He yanked ‘87 closer, until they were eye to eye.

His heart rate picked up. “This is when I die, isn’t it?”

Ren’s lips twitched. “That depends on you.” His eyes hardened, his gaze sent shivers down ‘87’s spine. There was something distinctly predatory about him now. “I’ll kill you if you cause trouble. But if you ignore last night it will be like it never happened.”

Was there any point to reminding Ren he’d been the one to start it both last night and in the morning? The obvious answer was _not if you like being alive_.

“I’m not going to tell!” FN-2187 vowed, “I’ll never speak of this to anyone. Ever!” He would promise whatever got him out of here alive.

His gaze strayed to the still very naked body of the Knight, and he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of regret that he had recalled last night before anything else could happen. Ren’s personality may be horrifying, but nobody could deny that his body was perfect. As a Stormtrooper, ‘87 could appreciate it not just for its aesthetic value, but also for the fact that Ren had turned it into a lethal weapon. If only he would stop aiming this weapon at him…

Kylo Ren turned his head and looked at him for impossibly long seconds – ‘87 couldn’t decipher the conflict that showed so clearly on his face, but there could be no doubt he was at war with himself.

He might end up dead, after all.

Just when ‘87 was bracing himself for the return of the lightsaber, Ren stood up abruptly and started to dig around the mess on the floor, giving ‘87 another nice look at his tight, perfectly shaped ass in the process. With the sight distracting him, it took ‘87 embarrassingly long to catch on to the fact that Ren was getting dressed.

Maybe he had a rule against murdering people while naked?

Entranced, ‘87 watched Ren’s naked skin disappear beneath layers of black fabric, until the imposing well-known figure of the Master of the Knights of Ren stood before him, the only sign that last night hadn’t been a figment of ‘87’s imagination the distinct lack of a mask, and his own nakedness.

He still looked handsome swathed in black.

Ren cleared his throat. “My eyes are up here, trooper.”

“Sorry, sir… uh, Lord Ren, sir!” Did mortification count as an actual legit cause of death? If it didn’t, they really ought to remedy that.

Ren’s eyes softened a bit, he could have sworn he read mischief in them for a moment before they went blank again. “Report to Captain Phasma as soon as possible. I’ll ensure there are no repercussions for you.”

Only the stiff, militaristic way in which he held himself betrayed Ren’s discomfort as he turned on his heel and stalked to the door. He reminded ‘87 of an officer inspecting the troops at parade.

“What are you going to do now?” ‘87 asked before he could come to his senses and remember he wanted to remain safely forgotten.

Much to his surprise, Ren halted just short of passing through the door, and even looked back at him. He appeared eerily calm. “I’m going to kill General Hux.”

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had fun with this!
> 
> Next chapter will see a little peek into life on the Finalizer after their memorable night.


	5. Only Funny If It Happens to Someone Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FN-2187 tries to deal with the fallout of his accidental wedding. Kylo Ren tries not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your reviews and kudos! I'm utterly overwhelmed by the response!

FN-2187 had it on good authority that Kylo Ren did not, in fact, kill General Hux that day.

Well, fine, he knew so because of General Hux’s daily speech on the Finalizer, though his voice sounded scratchy and weak and he broke down into coughing fits for days, so ‘87 would bet on a legitimate attempt having been made.

He also had it on good authority that there had been major property damage, though he wouldn’t learn the full extent of it until weeks later.

By the time he reported to Captain Phasma, the First Order troops were being rushed off-planet, and word was that Kylo Ren and Hux had already returned to the ship.

It looked like their hosts had been ever so slightly upset by the large-scale destruction an angry Kylo Ren unleashed.

True to his word, FN-2187 kept mum on the events of that night, even though he was more popular than ever before among the gossip-starved troops.

After a week it would have been like it had never happened if it weren’t for the ring ‘87 still wore under his white Stormtrooper gloves. He didn’t want to wonder why, but he didn’t like the thought of it being discovered, and confiscated, if his possessions were searched while he was on duty.

It would have been fine, except one day Captain Phasma asked to speak to him about his training results, and he caught a glance at his own file.

_Marital status: Married.  
Spouse: Kylo Ren (Knights of Ren)_

‘87 could never figure out how he’d made it through the meeting without hyperventilating.

 

There was one thing he knew for sure: he needed answers.

There was only one person who could give him these answers: his husband.

Problem one was that FN-2187 was working on a tight schedule. Their bout on the Finalizer was nearly over, it’d be back to the training compound then and there’s no saying if he would run into Kylo Ren ever again.

Problem two was that you did not run into Kylo Ren just like that, at least not when you were a simple cadet catching his first whiff of real Stormtrooper air. Getting to Ren would require everything he had been taught and more.

Problem three was that Ren would kill him for his trouble, but FN-2187 tried very hard not to think about problem three while he was still working on problem two.

A bad strategy, all things considered, but that didn’t occur to him until he stood in front of Kylo Ren’s door and waited for certain death. Well, okay, more like, he was waiting for the courage to ring the bell.

The door opened suddenly, and there was an intimidating swath of black in front of him, a growl of, “will you stop thinking so loudly?!” and then he found himself unceremoniously yanked into the room. Without Kylo Ren ever touching him at all.

Pinned against the now-closed door, ’87 gaped at Ren’s mask. Was it just him or did the mouthpiece really make it look astoundingly duck-like?

The strangled noise Ren made probably meant he’d heard that.

FN-2187 was _so dead_.

Ren yanked off the mask and snapped, “and would you stop the mindless panicking, too? You’re giving me a migraine.”

“It’d be easier not to panic if you weren’t going to kill me… sir? Lord Ren.” Kylo. He was probably supposed to call him Kylo, being married and everything. Or ‘sweetheart’ or whatever cute nicknames married people had for another. ‘87’s training hadn’t exactly prepared him for this scenario.

No, not sweetheart. Definitely not sweetheart, ’87 decided as he cringed under Ren’s glare, that would take a more suicidal trooper than him.

Ren put the helmet down on a table and sprawled in an armchair that looked incredibly uncomfortable even by First Order standards. ’87 didn’t miss that he hadn’t been invited to sit, or given permission to move at all. In a way he was glad for it; the more distance between him and his husband, the better. “I didn’t kill you yet, but I’m willing to reconsider.”

“Uh… that’s really not necessary?”

He should have never come.

Going by Ren’s snort, he agreed. “Why are you here?” Sprawled in that huge blocky armchair, so deceptively relaxed but with these disturbingly intense black eyes fixed on ’87, he looked like a predator waiting to pounce. Whatever animal he would be, it should have sleek and deceptively silky fur, and claws that could spill a man’s guts with a single swipe.

’87 gulped. He folded his hands in front of him and peered down at them. He shouldn’t have come. It wasn’t like Vega. Here he was just a trooper cadet, and Ren the Force user who skewered people like him for fun. Or that’s what Slip said anyway, that bloke in maintenance had told him that a droid in medical had heard from an officer that Ren liked to kill Stormtroopers just for fun when he got bored. Lined up a dozen and hacked them up, just like that. Mind you, Slip had also been convinced there was a Zillo beast in the sewers under their training compound, but this one didn’t sound far-fetched at all.

“I’m waiting!”

‘87’s eyes widened when he realized Ren had raised his hand in that gesture that preceded telekinesis. “Sorry! Sorry, I was just…” He shook his head. Damn it, he was a cadet of the First Order, and the best one Captain Phasma had seen in a long time. He wasn’t going to stammer and cower… at least not much. “I saw my file,” ’87 said, “and we’re still married.”

“I know.”

’87 swallowed down the indignant _why didn’t you tell me?_ only because he realized that would presume Kylo Ren cared enough to keep him informed. He was just one Stormtrooper among many, he didn’t even warrant a name like the officers or Knights of Ren.

“Were you going to tell me?” he asked instead.

Ren remained silent for long moments, which ’87 took to mean no, and really, this entire trip was turning out to be a waste of time. He didn’t even know what he’d been hoping for. Then the man surprised him by pointing at the other chair and saying, “sit.”

Which was another bad habit of Ren, ‘sitting’ him, and that it was an improvement this time only showed how badly their talk was going. ’87 sat without a complaint, though he wondered why Ren even had a second chair. He couldn’t see him having guests over.

“Telling you wouldn’t have changed a thing. The Vegan government was ready to shoot us from the sky, there was no time to seek an annulment, and Hux thought it amusing to insist on truthful documentation in our own files. It’s just a line of code. It has no bearing on your life, or on mine.”

That was so utterly underwhelming. ’87 really didn’t know what he had expected, but he knew there had been _something_ on Vega, prior to him learning Ren’s identity. It hadn’t been love at first sight, but their mutual attraction wasn’t all in his head either. Yet the moment ’87 learned his name he had grown as cold and curt as if ’87 was dealing with Captain Phasma or General Hux himself, not with the most emotional man on the ship.

Frankly, it made him feel kind of defeated that Ren wasn’t willing to give them the slightest chance. ’87 wasn’t saying he wanted to be lovers, but… It would have been nice if they could talk like normal people. It wasn’t like either of them had many friends. But Kylo Ren seemed determined to push him away, and while it hurt more than he cared to admit, there was nothing he could do about it.

It wasn’t like they were lovers, or ’87 had any claim on his time or affection. All he had was a makeshift ring and ‘a line of code that had no bearing on their lives.’

“Okay,” ’87 said, though it wasn’t really okay. But the way Ren told it he didn’t leave a lot of room for argument.

Ren stood up and walked to his side, he rested his hand on ‘87’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I wish you weren’t burdened with this.”

He had sounded gentle, but by the time ’87 looked up he was scowling again and retreating to pick up his helmet. “You have to leave. You have no clearance for this sector.”

’87 wilted. You couldn’t get kicked out more bluntly.

“Yes. Yes, I guess I should leave, I’ve got to be in my bunk if there’s a surprise inspection, and Slip will be wondering where I am.” He got up and walked towards the door, albeit slowly, irrationally still waiting for… Well, for Ren to give him _something_ to show he wasn’t crazy and had made up the entire thing, really.

Ren didn’t say anything. He put on his helmet, and ’87 could have sworn he felt his eyes on him. It was uncomfortable.

FN-2187 couldn’t help feeling oddly let down as he left Kylo Ren’s quarters.

Two days later he was shipped back to the training compound.

He didn’t expect to see Kylo Ren ever again, and he didn’t. Not until Jakku.

The End (or not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this crazy ride! 
> 
> Next chapter is the epilogue, which takes us back to Finn, Rey and Poe on the Resistance base.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn deals with Poe and Rey knowing, and It Is Awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are now, at the end of this long journey! I first came across the kink meme prompt back in January or February, but it took me months to figure out how to write it. When I posted the first chapter on the kink meme I thought I'd be writing for an audience of me, myself and I.
> 
> I can't thank you enough for your support and encouragement!

To their credit, his friends really tried to make it Not Awkward.

But ever since the night of that drinking game, every time Kylo Ren was brought up there would be meaningful looks towards him, awkward silences, muttered apologies… though the concerned questions were worst. He even preferred the frantic whispers and gossip that had followed him around base for a couple of weeks.

“It’s nice of you to worry,” Finn learned to say, though he was by now more frustrated with it, followed by some version of, “but he didn’t hurt me” or “nothing happened” or “it really wasn’t such a big deal.”

Honestly, Finn hadn’t even thought about his marriage until the drinking game reminded him. His new life with the Resistance, his new life _in freedom_ , was far too exciting to spend it mooning over a man who had killed his own father and tried to skewer him with a lightsaber.

“To people like him Stormtroopers are disposable and interchangeable, I doubt he even recognized me when we battled on Starkiller,” he told Rey and Poe one night, when they looked far too concerned again, and tried his hardest not to be annoyed that they were talking about Kylo Ren _again_. His friends, with their well-meaning but ill-chosen concern, were the ones who had turned the Kylo Ren thing into a big deal.

And he understood it came as a huge shock to them that he’d willingly shared a bed and wedding vows with someone who was a boogeyman to them, he knew they’d both suffered terribly at Ren’s hands and were understandably concerned for him, but that part of his life was over. And he was _fine_ not thinking about Ren all the time. Finn _liked_ not thinking about Ren all the time, now that he was no longer reminded of him by his back exploding in pain every time he tried to move.

He shrugged, and grabbed another handful of roast nuts from the bowl. He popped a few into his mouth, and took the time to chew. But they kept looking at him with these concerned, solemn faces. “It’s done with. It’s not like I’ll see him ever again.”

He’d once told them he didn’t want to talk about it, but that had only increased their concern. It would be far too callous to tell them that just because their experiences with Ren had been traumatic didn’t mean his had to as well.

It could have been a big deal, Finn thought later, when he was back in his room and getting ready for bed. He would have let it become one given half a chance. He’d been so terribly lonely with the First Order and desperate for any affection and acknowledgement even if it came from the most unlikely source. But Ren couldn’t be bothered with a mere Stormtrooper, and sure, that had hurt for a while, but he’d moved on to better things and better friends.

And now his better friends kept making him think about it all the time.

He sighed in defeat as he went for his Stormtrooper boots, the only thing to survive from his old uniform, and opened the little hidden cache in the left boot. With constant inspections, Stormtroopers were exceptionally good at hiding things.

The ring dropped into his palm. With what he knew now, Finn understood that Ren had shaped it with the Force. It was kind of impressive that he could do so when sufficiently drunk to marry a stranger. Finn hadn’t even realized that the ring had survived his defection till Rey asked after it.

He wasn’t going to start wearing it again, Finn decided, but there was no reason to keep it hidden, either. Sure, he had move on, but the ring would serve as a reminder that there had been more to his old life than drills and indoctrination.

 

Six months later, news reached the Resistance that Kylo Ren had been captured. Or surrendered. Or defected. Nobody was quite sure of the details.

Matter of fact was, he was in a New Republic Fleet Intelligence high-security prison, and with the current power struggle between the Resistance’s and Starfleet’s high commands, they weren’t getting access to him or the information he might have.

“The Director won’t even let General Organa see him,” Poe exclaimed, looking utterly indignant on the General’s behalf, “and she’s his mother!”

“She _is_ too important to risk her life,” Finn interjected quietly. He understood where Poe was coming from, but having witnessed Kylo Ren murder his father he was glad he wasn’t given the chance to do the same to his mother. “But…” He swallowed. Stilled. “I’m not.” He felt Poe and Rey’s eyes on him, though sheer nerves wouldn’t let him look at either. “And maybe they won’t deny me a visit with my husband.”

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the best intentions to make the epilogue funny with lots of teasing and joking, but I just couldn’t. With Rey and Poe knowing Kylo only as a monster, I realized it wouldn’t be funny to them at all, but rather quite horrifying. 
> 
> Finn is hyperaware of the low value he had to the First Order higher-ups, and so he was disappointed, but not surprised by Kylo’s attitude. While his friends are right to be concerned, they fixate too much on the shock value of that one night with Kylo. In the long list of all the wrongs he suffered under the FO, Kylo being mean to him once pales in comparison. But he should be angry, he’s got every right to be angry, and when he meets Kylo again under reversed power dynamics he’ll finally get to confront that. 
> 
> This is why I chose not to reunite them in the epilogue (as I’d planned,) it would have deviated even further from the mood of the earlier chapters, and I wanted to take the time to explore their reunion properly.
> 
> The sequel is in the works.


End file.
